The Way You Swore

If Nature is our mother, then God is our father. - Thoreau

wandering through a vital forest

smell of extant pine and wafting smoke of bygone days mingling reluctantly

i feel the breath of the master

sitting on a throne of nature, extending from some faraway place

exhaled truth and inhaled faith

beauty flowing

ancient words knowing

trees guarding like soldiers safe

in an invading palette of hues, autumnal leaves parachute downward

a d-day covering earth's floor

flinging open wide heaven's door

judgement draws near

nothing else matters

wrapped in a formidable shawl of silent prayers

as the dying breeze of seasons stutters, "one", "two", "three", "four"

teach me the way

help me find my way

show me a way

now and forever more

the way that a stark revelation of eternity swore

.

Author's Note

“It is pleasant to walk over the beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves. How beautifully they go to their graves! how gently lay themselves down and turn to mould!-- painted of a thousand hues, and fit to make the beds of us living." - Thoreau

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

A spiritual poem of seeking and reliance. Asking, needing, praying, anticipating hearing His voice. Honest and sincere.
I hope all is well.

[Pete]

thank you sami. you are acutely attuned to my deep ramblings. not sure if that is a good thing or bad - either way you have my sympathies (just kidding) ... :)

[Sami Khalil]

Wow! Good to know. You are welcome 😊..